To Run Because You Like It

A daily runner who no longer yearns to race

I never thought it would come to this. I assumed that it would have been over long ago. But even though I haven’t raced in years, I still retain a strong passion for running. In my former life as a 2:14 marathoner, I often logged more than 120 miles per week. I enjoyed the training, but it was almost entirely about competition and achievement. Working toward specific goals and the pleasure that comes with a satisfying performance nurtured my interest in running and ruled this stage of my life.

My first real run, a 4-miler down Pound Road in Cumberland, R.I., seemed endless. It was the first day of high school cross country practice, and I had run exactly zero miles the previous summer. Thankfully, we started at a pedestrian pace, jogging past fallowed farmland where suburban homes now dotted the fields. I was actually enjoying the leisurely tempo, but this was short-lived, as one of the upperclassmen moved to the front and increased the pace dramatically.

I struggled up each incline of the undulating route, but pushed on, clinging to the rear of the front group. I found myself engulfed in a haze of discomfort and increasingly viewed my new teammates as adversaries; I hated each and every one, or at least those disappearing up the road in front of me. It continued like this for what seemed an eternity, but finally, in a blur of exhaustion, it was over and we were jogging slowly toward the gym, gathering our teammates on the way.

That first run revealed the brutal simplicity of running: Each athlete finishes in a specific order, and you're either better or worse than others. Thus began my competitive career. The whole point, at least from my perspective, was to beat other people. Although I count many of my former training mates among my closest friends, nothing was more satisfying than defeating them in the competitive arena. I’m confident that the feeling was mutual. We were, of course, allies off the track, but that relationship didn’t matter once the gun sounded. It was this dynamic, the challenge of competition, that kept me going.

But many miles and many years later, I’ve undergone a fundamental shift in perspective and have relegated myself to the margins of the competitive world. In a sport that’s ruled by the clock, freeing myself from the minutes and seconds that define success was liberating. I was now free to run when I wanted, without the gnawing obligation that comes with a competitive pursuit. I no longer have an interest in running “against” anyone.

Rather, I’m often looking for someone to run “with,” and it’s the camaraderie, rhythm and ritual that continue to hold my interest.

It’s an informal arrangement, but on most Wednesdays I meet my current allies, John, Jeff and Mark, outside the library in Concord, Mass., the time usually determined by Mark’s teaching schedule. We set off down Main Street toward Walden Street, on the way sidestepping tourists crowding the sidewalk. We’re soon twisting and turning through familiar landscape, gliding along Walden Pond’s pristine shore before heading more deeply into the woods. We start slowly and build to a nice cadence, fast enough to be reminded of the sting of fatigue.

It’s on these runs that I am reminded of “The Song of the Ungirt Runners” by Charles Hamilton Sorley, a poem that now defines my relationship with running.

We swing ungirded hips,And lightened are our eyes,The rain is on our lips,We do not run for prize.We know not whom we trustNor whitherward we fare,But we run because we mustThrough the great wide air.The waters of the seasAre troubled as by storm.The tempest strips the treesAnd does not leave them warm.Does the tearing tempest pause?Do the tree-tops ask it why?So we run without a cause'Neath the big bare sky.The rain is on our lips,We do not run for prize.But the storm the water whipsAnd the wave howls to the skies.The winds arise and strike itAnd scatter it like sand,And we run because we like itThrough the broad bright land.

I was introduced to this verse many years ago by former British athletics great Bruce Tulloh, who at the time was teaching at Sorley’s alma matter, Marlborough College. Sorley loved to run over the Wiltshire Downs, a beautiful stretch of rolling hills and green fields that forms an idyllic frame to Marlborough College. Sorley ran through this magnificent landscape for the sheer enjoyment of it all, much like Mark, John, Jeff and I run through Walden Woods. And yes, like Sorley, we run simply because we like it.